Harold beamed and leaned forward. “I told your mother, Rita, that kid doesn’t miss a trick.”
“Yeah, right, Dad,” Steve said. “And if I believe that you’ll try and sell me some oceanfront property in Arizona.” He sat up in his chair. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll ask Uncle Max. He loves all this nature crap, so he’ll probably agree. But I have to get his permission.”
“That’s terrific. We’re planning for the twenty-ninth of January, if that’s all right with you.”
“Aren’t you efficient? You have a date already.”
Harold sat back in his chair and made a face. “We have to reserve the bus. Unfortunately I don’t have a son who is a bus dispatcher so I started with the Greyhound. I’m sorry if that offends you.”
“No, Dad, it doesn’t offend me.” Steve walked Harold back out to the front of the trailer and promised to call once he spoke to Uncle Max.
Uncle Max was excited. He even asked Steve if the Florida Club might be interested in hearing him talk about the snowy egret, but Steve thought they wouldn’t.
The next day, he made arrangements for the tour with Rose Whitman, the local secretary of the Florida Club. “We’d prefer to start the tour after three-thirty,” Steve said, “so it won’t interfere with any construction work.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “A number of our members have academic responsibilities.” She neglected to mention that a number of her members were also under three feet tall.
Dozens of tenants and prospective tenants, attorneys, accountants and influential citizens, none of them affiliated with the Florida Club, were invited to the leasing party, on the eighteenth of January. Maxine planned a slide presentation on retailing opportunities, an animal handler was to bring in some Everglades wildlife, and the Miccosukee song and dance troupe who had been at the escalator test would perform.
Since Steve was a novice at shopping center construction, he had no way of anticipating the trouble such an event would cause. But Junior did, so he put Steve in charge of all construction liaison for the party.
Steve was flattered, until the next day, when he met with Maxine and realized how much she wanted. “But it’s still a construction site,” he said. “We can’t clean it up completely.”
“I’m not asking for the whole site,” she said. “Just a little area. Can’t you clear the debris, sweep it out, and have one of the electricians rig up some temporary power for me? That’s all it’ll take.”
It took a lot more than that. The day of the party, Steve was out in the mall, pushing a broom, carrying two by fours, and exhorting the temporary laborers he’d hired to ever greater efforts. The main atrium was a large open area in the center of the mall, where escalators rose over fountains to take shoppers to the second level. The interior space was three stories high, surmounted by a large peaked skylight.
But the fountains were not complete, and they had to be covered with plywood so that no one could fall in. There were elevation changes in the concrete that had to be ramped over, dangerous areas to be roped off. His cousin Richie was building a platform for the animal handlers to use and every five minutes he wanted Steve to look at it and make sure his angles were straight. There were four electricians working on setting up temporary power for a bank of slide projectors, standing fans, microphones and spotlights.
Junior came by once and said, “You’re doing a great job. Keep it up.”
Steve rested his broom handle against the wall. “Thanks, Junior. I appreciate your support.”
Junior laughed. An electrician came over to ask Steve how many outlets he needed at the podium. Then one of the laborers fell against a pile of two by fours, spilling them into the middle of the hallway which had just been swept.
Miranda came in carrying large sheets of poster board. She began painting signs in an unfinished store next to the atrium. “You look like you’re having fun,” Steve said as he passed. He set down the big fan he was carrying.
“Oh, I am,” Miranda said. “When I was teaching, I used to love to paint.” She dipped her brush into a can of bright green paint and swirled a curlicue on the poster. Almost magically, it became the alligator symbol of the Everglades Galleria.
Steve picked up the fan and carried it to its position, next to a portable sound stage at one side of the atrium. Brad was standing behind it, flipping switches. “Try not to electrocute yourself, Brad,” Steve said. “I can get you an electrician.”
“I’ll have you know that I worked the sound panel at a nightclub in Key West for two years.” Brad pressed a button and a trumpet solo began. Then another, and a piano chimed in. With a few more flourishes, he was making beautiful music.
Even Maxine seemed to know what she was doing. She was rehearsing her slide presentation and everything worked smoothly. Steve felt sure it couldn’t last. It was like the Blatnicks singing at the Christmas dinner. They could carry a tune, mimic some rough choreography, but in the end it would all fall apart.
But instead, he was the one who couldn’t finish on time. An hour before the presentations began, Miranda, Brad and Maxine disappeared to get dressed. Steve was still directing carpenters, testing electric circuits, and sweating in his khaki pants and polo shirt when the first guests began to arrive.
Attractive young women in Galleria T-shirts escorted the guests to their seats in the atrium. Steve fine-tuned the fans, did one last walk-through to make sure everything was ready, and then leaned against a wall in the background.
A year before, he might have been one of those men in the audience. Neat and crisp in their pin-striped suits, oxford-cloth shirts and Italian silk ties, they looked as if they owned the world. And if they worked in corporate real estate, then they probably did, or at least a part of it.
Steve was glad he was not out there in the audience, crunching numbers and wearing a suit. Even though it was what he’d been trained to do, he had never felt that he belonged in a regular office. He’d tried it, once, and failed. Now everything was riding on his ability to succeed at the Galleria. He had to keep accepting new challenges, like solving the union problems and then coordinating this party, and succeeding at them, if he wanted to hang onto this new career after the last ribbon had been cut and the mall opened.
Maxine finished her presentation with a flourish. The last slide was a simulated picture of what the Everglades Galleria would look like on opening day, the parking lots packed with cars, thousands of multi-colored balloons floating against a blue sky. Clusters of people carrying brimming shopping bags were arrested in mid-parade through the mall. A marching band played under a hail of streamers.
The music came up loud with the Everglades Galleria theme song, a catchy number with the refrain “Bop and shop til you drop.” Then the lights came up and everyone applauded. Even Steve clapped. He was curiously moved by the picture of the completed mall. He felt proud, happy and almost giddy with joy.
Tables had been set up around the perimeter of the space and stocked with food and beverages. Maxine invited everyone to get something to eat and drink, and then sit back and enjoy the rest of the presentations.
The Miccosukees performed a song and dance number in their tribal costumes, and then the animal handler, a lean, tan guy named Larry Brown, stepped up onto his platform to introduce the native inhabitants of the Everglades, many of whom were being displaced by the Galleria.
He showed an extremely rare Everglades kite that was recuperating from a wing injury. “As soon as he’s all mended, we’ll set him back loose in the wild.” Brown introduced a white egret, a purple gallinule, and a couple of different kinds of frogs and lizards.
The showpiece of his act was an alligator named Evelyn. “Evelyn of the Everglades,” he said. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Evelyn was securely tied down to the wooden platform while the handler pointed out the difference between alligators and crocodiles and described their habitats and diets.
To make a point, Brown untied the rope around Evelyn’s
tail. “Her tail is the strongest part of her. Any of you folks out there who’ve ever wrestled one of these babies know that the two most important parts of the alligator to watch out for are the jaws and the tail.”
To emphasize his point, Evelyn whacked her tail on the wooden platform. And then, because the platform had been built by a Blatnick, it felt apart.
It seemed to cave in on itself, dropping Evelyn and Brown to the concrete. While Brown was temporarily immobilized and the dust was settling, Evelyn shook herself free of her ropes and slithered out toward the audience. The guests scattered in a hundred directions, knocking over sawhorses and tearing through yellow tape barriers. Evelyn swung her massive tail as she moved, knocking over rows of folding chairs in her wake.
“You think a glass of champagne and some prosciutto with melon would calm her down?” Steve asked Brad, who had jumped up onto a chair.
“Why don’t you try it?” Brad asked. “Just stay away from me.”
Steve thought the whole thing was hilarious, until Evelyn was headed directly towards him. “Where are the Miccosukees?” he asked Brad, as they ran for the escalator. “Aren’t they supposed to wrestle these things?”
“Never an Indian around when you need one,” Brad said.
“Hell, I’m an Indian and you’d never catch me wrestling one of those things,” said a man running next to them, who had performed in the Miccosukee show. “I work in a dry cleaners.”
From a safe vantage point between the first and second levels, Steve and Brad watched Brown track Evelyn through the debris of tables, chairs and food. But once she was caught and immobilized, the guests all said hurried good-byes, picking up piles of literature on the Galleria on their way out.
Steve stood in the background until the last guest had left, then supervised the clean-up crew. Maxine held a post-mortem session in the middle of the mess, letting Steve and his crew clean around them.
“Will this be really bad for us?” Miranda asked. She had stepped on her picture hat in fleeing from the alligator, and sat holding the wreckage in her hand.
Maxine shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. ”If the numbers work, they’ll remember we’re the crazy place where the alligator got loose.”
Steve did not quite see how an event that caused a hundred people to flee a disoriented reptile could be good for the mall, but he yielded to Maxine and concentrated on cleaning. It was after eight before he was finished.
But instead of going home, he walked out to visit the Blakes. Though the night was moonless, there were thousands of stars spilled overhead. The darkness was quiet and soft. Steve used a flashlight to find his way through the woods to the campsite, and around him he heard scurrying noises and the flapping of wings.
John, Mary and Tunisia sat in front of the tent, in the yellow glow of the Coleman lantern. They were managing all right, though Mary was suffering a little from the heat. She had been working her way through the book Steve gave her, identifying plants and animals in the swamp.
“You know, I’m starting to get worried about you,” Steve said. “What are you going to do when you go into labor?” Mary’s due date was March 1.
“Car still works,” John said. “I’ll take her to the hospital.” He took a knife out of his pocket and held a branch to his knee with his bad arm. With the good one he began to whittle.
“But what about insurance?” Steve asked.
“Mary’s father has been keeping up the insurance payments for us,” John said, concentrating on his whittling. ”We hate to accept charity, but we owe it to the baby to look after it.”
“I been going in regular for my checkups.” Mary put her hand on John’s bad arm. “After the baby’s born, me and it and maybe Tunisia, we’re going to my father’s house.”
“By then, I hope I’ll be working again,” John said. He looked up from his whittling. “With some money in my pocket, I can get us a new place to live.”
But they had to hold out until the baby arrived, and even afterwards, John hoped to remain in the woods until he could get his nest egg together. Every day Steve expected to hear that they’d been discovered, that they were being evicted. He gave a moment’s thought to what might happen to him if Junior or Uncle Max found out he’d known about them since early December, but dismissed it. If anything happened, it happened. He said good night, and made his way back through the dark and sleepy woods.
19 – Introduction to Design
Friday night, Steve, Miranda and Brad went to happy hour at a surfer bar in Miami. The bouncer sat in a big lifeguard chair at the entrance, and all the waiters wore tight bikini bathing suits. Miranda and Brad loved it, but Steve was a little embarrassed. A surfing video played constantly on a monitor in the background, and the drinks were served in big glasses with miniature surfboards as stirrers.
Steve left after an hour or so and went home, where he fell asleep in front of the TV. He woke up at two a.m. staring at some detective movie and then stumbled into bed.
His phone rang at nine. “Hey, pal, big surprise,” the voice at the other end said. “I’m in town. Or at least I think this is a town.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m hurt that you don’t recognize me when I have been your best friend since we were twelve years old.”
“Dan? Where are you?” Steve asked.
“I have Monday off for Martin Luther King Day, so my grandmother sprang for a ticket to Florida. I’m at her condo in Deerfield Beach. You busy?”
“I was sleeping,” Steve said. “But I suppose I could motivate myself up to Deerfield Beach. How do I get there?”
“You’re asking me? If the subway doesn’t go there I don’t either. Look at a map.”
Steve wrote down the address. “I’m heading for the pool now,” Dan said. “Why don’t we do dinner?”
“This is Florida,” Steve said. “People don’t do meals here, they eat them. I’ll pick you up around six.”
He slid back under the covers but could not get back to sleep. That evening he navigated his way up the coast to Deerfield Beach, and he and Dan went bar-hopping along a stretch of U.S. 1. “It’s good to see you,” Steve said. “I’m getting accustomed to it here, I have people to hang out with, but I miss my old friends.”
Dan nodded. “It’s hard to make friends as good as the ones you left behind when you move to someplace new. It takes time.”
“Hey, why don’t you come stay at my place tonight?” Steve asked. “I can take you over and show you the site, and we can hang out in Miami. I can bring you back tomorrow night.”
Dan frowned. “I’d love to, but you know, Grandma paid for this trip, so I feel like she ought to get her money’s worth out of me. I don’t think she’d like it if I took off for a day.”
They ate burgers from McDonald’s for dinner and went to see a late movie. Driving back to his empty apartment, Steve already felt lonely, missing Dan. He didn’t get home until nearly two o’clock, and stumbled into bed again.
He didn’t get enough sleep that night, and then on Sunday night he was plagued by nightmares. He dreamed he was trapped in the mall, and the ceiling and walls were falling in on him. He tossed and turned so much that by Monday morning his arms and legs ached as if he’d spent the night in a cement mixer.
Celeste was sitting at her desk when Steve walked in. “Good morning,” she said. “Wait until you hear Uncle Max’s new idea.”
“If it has to do with birds, lizards or Miccosukee Indians, I’m just not interested.”
“None of the above. But you’re going to love it anyway. He’s decided that whenever a new person joins the team, everybody should be on hand to greet him, in a welcoming ceremony.”
“A welcoming ceremony?” Steve put his foot up on Celeste’s desk to retie the lace on his Topsider, and the muscles in his calf twitched painfully. “How nice. Remember when I showed up for work and nobody knew I was coming? That was a great welcome.”
Celeste pushed his foot off her des
k and he hopped around for a minute until he got his balance. Each time he landed on the ball of his foot, a sharp pain began there and ran all the way up his leg. “Just plan to be here around eleven thirty,” she said. “We all have to stand out in front of the Welcome Center and wave as this new guy drives up with Uncle Max.”
“You’re kidding,” Steve said. “Has Uncle Max been watching too many reruns of Fantasy Island?” He hunched down, pointed to the ceiling and said, “De plane, de plane.” Immediately, spasms ran up and down his spine.
Celeste shook her head. “This is all true, I’m telling you. Be here at eleven thirty and you’ll see for yourself.”
Steve straightened up and walked back to his office. He was having trouble with one of the contractors, and though he’d been able to forget about it while preparing for the party, it was still there to haunt him.
There was only one manufacturer who made oversized garage doors big enough and strong enough for the loading docks at the rear of building A. Since the doors were complex, there was also only one contractor in Dade County qualified to install them.
Frank Giardella drove an immense black Lincoln Continental and brought his pet whippet out to every meeting on the site. His broad beer belly slopped over his belt and always seemed to have burst at least one button on his shirt. He chain smoked cheap cigars, and their aroma always remained behind him.
The whippet was as thin as Frank was fat, and though his energy level was a thousand times higher, his mean temper matched his owner’s. Frank never returned phone calls, and when Steve reached him, he was surly, wouldn’t answer questions, and wouldn’t provide Steve with specifics about the number of men working and the kind of materials stockpiled. For two weeks after the contract was signed, Frank refused to give Steve a schedule. Once he did, he wouldn’t stick to it, and his men were never on site when they were supposed to be.
At first, Steve had tried to be friendly. He posed his questions as a novice seeking advice from a more experienced mentor. That didn’t work. Then, as he got more familiar with the job and with Frank’s methods, he tried to relate to him as an equal. That didn’t work either.
Invasion of the Blatnicks Page 17
